#like i had lots of stuff out and visible here but it didn't feel cluttered just homey/lived in

[toyonberries]

Feeling nostalgic for this space and this light

[alt-bluesman]

Animal Crossing memories, part 3

I think this is the final part!

My Joy-Cons haven't completed their journey yet, but in the end I decided that I'm not going to put much faith in them & grabbed a set of used Hori controllers in the meantime. Gave Pan a final tour today. Didn't want to invest in a capture card, so a couple of screenshots is the best I can offer!

Sadly there's no way in heck I can stuff all of them into a single post, so I'll just narrow it down to my favourites & the ones I have something to say about!

First, the map. My villagers were Gruff the goat, Kitt the kangaroo, Sprinkle the penguin, Kyle the wolf, Ione the squirrel, Olaf the anteater, Al the gorilla, Jambette the frog, Fang the wolf and Fuchsia the deer. I liked them all, fuglies included. I like a lot of the ugly ones now!

Naturally my biggest dream was to invite Shrek to the island. Shrek never showed up. I had to resort to home-brew methods!

Frample's home. I couldn't fit the big-ass yard in the frame, but there was a little islet with a snapping turtle living on it. A homage to Jacksepticeye's Tortellini, forever jammin'!

The Zen Garden that my villagers never really cared for, haha. I found out they aren't very eager to interact with any objects that aren't close to their houses or the plaza. They sometimes goof around on the southern beaches, but that's pretty much it!

(At least those lads were having a time of their life)

Ione's yard was the bane of my existence - the laggiest part of the island. I was never able to pinpoint the cause, there was no water and not even that much foliage. Some folks say that snow causes the game to get quite choppy, but it lagged during the other seasons too. Maybe it was all the custom paths?

Sprinkle lived close to Ione. Her yard was a bit more spacious, so I could build Snowboys there. Some of them still ended up in the river!

The main road with 5 frickin' waterfalls. Not visible here, but there was another one on the left. A good place to be if you want your eardrums to explode!

This cliff served no particular purpose, but I liked the view! This was my stargazing hideaway.

The campsite was pretty dang huge and placed right next to the island entrance. A decision I came to regret after some time. Now I prefer them tucked away in a secluded spot!

Isle of Spooks! My villagers never visited it except for that single time when Gruff decided to sneak in and investigate. Gruff was an absolute legend.

The beach next to the campsite was one of the few decorated beach areas that I was actually quite happy with!

The entrance. Nothing too fancy, but there were so many failed attempts at making a decent entrance, lmao. Makes ya finally settle with whatever ya have!

Kitt's yard! I remember feeling very proud of it once, but it doesn't really appeal to me anymore, especially that blob of a path.

Farmlands. That rainbow flower garden was a convenient way of keeping most of the flower breeds & colours in one spot, without them overtaking an entire island, but probably not something I'd build today. I hated when balloons flew over it because I couldn't shoot them down from there!

This yard was between the farms. First it was Tasha's, then Claudia's, then Fang's. I never bothered to redecorate, haha.

And here were the crops. Leif has failed me & never brought the carrots!

The woods behind the farms. (Wayyy too much clutter for my current tastes, but at least my main man Gruff was there)

The pirate bay! One of my oldest builds, but still very much up my alley!

(What if I told you that Pompom never really moved away?)

Alrighty, that's most of the western side of Pan covered. Here's a land bridge that connected the main cliffs behind the plaza. Waterscaping around it was absolute hell! Admittedly, I'm still quite proud of it & it's something I'd like to build again, but most likely without the dang river.

The road leading up to the Museum. Museum was an important building for me because of my first job, but I never quite got the surrounding area to look right. I do like the stone lion-dog statues, though!

Jambette's yard was my absolute favourite spot on the entire island. Minimalism was the name of the game. With a frog model from Jim!

Kyle's yard had a bit of a side business in the top left corner!

Eastern river mouth. I was all about putting those little islets on my rivers and lakes. It's fun and games till a special character or a fossil decides to spawn on them..!

Moving back to the eastern cliffs: here are some hungry gnomes and Olaf's yard. I always gifted all of my dresses as well as dumbest pieces of furniture to Olaf. He took it all like a champ!

I gave Mr. Resetti an extra job on Pan. (And a lazy bear compadre)

A seasonal icy drink bar - with Al's ass cheeks in the background for everyone's viewing pleasure. Al was the very first villager I found on a mystery island on a rainy day. Seeing his silhouette in the rain, I legit thought he was some kind of zombie. I didn't invite him back then, but when I bumped into him again on my last villager hunt, I decided to take him. Mad lad has finally made it!

Fuchsia's yard. A bit funky, but I still like it!

And that's it! There's a bunch of other screenshots I wasn't able to fit in, like the absolutely glorious board drawings from my best friends. Don't worry though, they are safe and sound with me! Farewell, Pan. You were my introduction to Animal Crossing and even though I'm ready to move on, I will always remember you very fondly!

[babygirlkiki1016]

The Hunt Begins

When we got to Stanford Dean told me just to wait outside by the Impala. About twenty minutes later I hear voices coming from the building. I see Dean take a glance at me to see if I was still there. Sam was saying something but Dean just rolls his eyes.

"The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors." I heard Sam say as they cross the parking lot to the Impala.

"So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?" Dean growls.

"No. Not normal. Safe." 

"And that's why you ran away." Dean looks away.

"I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing."

"Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it." Sam is silent.

"I can't do this alone."

"Yes you can." I joke, making both of the boys look at me. 

"Yeah, well, as Y/n pointed out earlier which you weren't here for, I don't want to."

"Wait, that's Y/n? Y/D/N's kid?" Sam asked surprised. "You brought his kid here?! Do you know what he's going to do to us when he realizes she's missing!?"

"Uh I believe he already knows." I interrupt.

"Look, she wanted to come so I didn't stop her besides she's eighteen." Dean points out. Sam sighs and looks down, thinking, then up.

"What was he hunting?" Sam asked as Dean opens the trunk of the Impala, then the spare-tire compartment, it's an arsenal.

"Holy crap this is cool!" I exclaimed as Dean props the compartment open with a shotgun and digs through the clutter.

"I know right? All right, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?"

"So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asks.

"I was working my own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans."

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Dean looks over at Sam.

"I'm twenty-six, dude."

"And then you went to Y/D/N for help?"

"That's about right, she offered to help cause her father wouldn't." Dean pulls some papers out of a folder. "All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy." Dean hands one of the papers to Sam, I look over his shoulder to see. "They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA. The paper is a printout of an article from the Jericho Herald, headlined Centennial Highway Disappearance and dated Sept. 19th 2005; it has a man's picture, captioned Andrew Carey MISSING." Sam reads it and glances up.

"So maybe he was kidnapped."

"Yeah. Well, here's another one in April." Dean hands me a Jericho Herald article for each date he mentions. "Another one in December 'oh-four, 'oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two, ten of them over the past twenty years." Dean takes the article's back from us and picks up the rest of the stack, putting them back in the folder. "All men, all the Same five-mile stretch of road." Dean pulls a bag out of another part of the arsenal. "It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough." He grabs a handheld tape recorder. "Then I get this voicemail yesterday." He presses play, the recording is staticky and the signal was clearly breaking up.

"Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger...and if you can...Y/D/N's kid." Dean presses stop.

"Wait...he mentioned me." I say silently.

"What does dad want with Y/n?" Sam asks.

"I don't know that's why I went to your dad. So whatever is going on, obviously your part of it."

"Well other than the creepy message involving me, you know there's EVP on that?" I said.

"Not bad, Y/n. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Sam shakes his head. "All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got." He presses play again.

"I can never go home..." Was the voice that was heard, Dean presses stop.

"Never go home." Sam comments, trying to think what it could mean. Dean drops the recorder, puts down the shotgun, stands straight, and shuts the trunk, then leans on it. "You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing." Sam looks away and sighs, then looks back. "All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him." Sam submits, Dean nods. "But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here." Sam turns to go back to the apartment but turns back when Dean speaks.

"What's first thing Monday?" 

"I have this...I have an interview."

"What, a job interview? Skip it."

"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate."

"Law school?" Dean smirks.

"So we got a deal or not?" Dean says nothing, Sam turns back around and heads back into the building.

"Your brother is certainly...not happy." I look over at Dean who shrugs.

"Eh he'll get over it." Dean smirks and gets back in the car, Dean maybe be smiling but I have a bad feeling about this.

~

Dean comes out of the convenience mart carrying junk food. Sam is sitting in the shotgun seat with the door open, rifling through a box of tapes as I was sitting in the back with the window down. I don't know what he's looking for but it must be important.

"Hey!" Dean says with a smile on his face. Sam leans out and looks at him. "You want breakfast?"

"No, thanks."

"Y/n? I got you coffee, along with some biscuits." He hands me the food.

"Thanks...." I say and take the food from him. "So how'd you pay for that stuff?" Sam  asks. "You and Dad still running credit card scams?" 

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career." Dean puts the nozzle that he left running while he went inside back on the pump. "Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam swings his legs back inside the car and closes the door.

"Uh, Burt Aframian." Dean gets into the driver seat and puts his soda and chips down.

"And his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal."

"That's pretty smart, man I wish I thought of that. Then I wouldn't have had to get a job." I joke as Dean closes the door, Sam looks back at me then at Dean.

"Only a few days and your already a bad influence on her." Sam chuckles. "I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection." From what I could see there are at least a dozen cassettes in the box on Sam's lap; some have album art, others are hand-labeled.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two." Sam holds up a tape for every band he names. "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" Dean takes the box labeled Metallica from Sam. "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."

"And that's probably why he has them." I interrupt while sipping my coffee.

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean pops the tape in the player. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." Dean drops the Metallica box back in the box of tapes and starts the engine.

"Wait." Sammy looks back at me as Dean drives off. "Why does she get coffee?"

"Well I asked her what she wanted and she told me."

"You didn't ask me...."

"Suck it up Sammy." Sam made a pouty face, I look down at my coffee then back at him. I reach forward and politely offer him some which Dean notices.

"Aw look at that she's willing to share."

"Shut up." Sam said with a blush on his face as he slowly took my cup.

~

   Sam is talking on his cell phone. "Thank you." He says then closes his phone. "All right. So, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue."

"Well at least we know he's ok." I said, making Sam nod in agreement.

"That's something, I guess." Dean glances over at us, then back at the road. At a bridge ahead of them, there are two police cars and several officers. 

"Woah, I wonder what happened." I wondered as Sam leans forward for a closer look, Dean pulls over. We take a long look before Dean turns off the engine. Dean opens the glove compartment and pulls out a box full of ID cards with his and John's faces. Visible ones include FBI and DEA. He picks one out and grins at Sam, who stares.

"Let's go."  Dean gets out of the car and me and Sam follow pursuit. On the bridge, the lead Deputy, leans over the railing to yell down to two men in wetsuits who were poking around the river.

"You guys find anything?" He yells.

"No! Nothing!" The other man who was below us replied. The deputy turns back to the car in the middle of the bridge. Another Deputy, is at the driver's side looking around inside the car. The three of us walk into the crime scene, I felt out of place but the brothers acted like they belong there.

"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean asks as the first Deputy looks up when he starts talking and straightens up to talk to him.

"And who are you?" Dean flashes his badge. "Federal marshals."

"You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you? Especially the girl." Dean laughs. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you." Dean goes over to the car. "You did have another one just like this, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that."

"So, this victim, you knew him?" Sam questioned, Jaffe, as it says on his name tag, nods.

"Town like this, everybody knows everybody." Dean circles the car, looking around.

"...And that is why I hate small towns." I state. "Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?"

"Uh N-No. Not so far as we can uh tell."

"So what's the theory? I'm thinking insane hitchhiker." Sam goes over to Dean as I keep the deputy busy.

"Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?"

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." Dean insults, Sam stomps on his foot.

"Thank you for your time." I say and the three of us head back to the Impala. Jaffe watches us go but I could the two talking.

"She's a pretty one ain't she?" Jaffe mentions, I ignored him, pervert I thought. Dean smacks Sam on the head, catching my attention.

"Ow! What was that for?" Sam grumbled.

"Why'd you have to step on my foot?"

"Why do you have to talk to the police like that?" Dean looks at Sam and moves in front of him, forcing Sam to stop walking.

"Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves." Sam clears his throat and looks over Dean's shoulder. Dean turns to see a Sheriff and two FBI agents.

"Can I help you boys?" The sheriff asks.

"No, sir, we were just leaving." I smile at them, giving them some reassurance and walk past the three men. Dean and Sam head past the Sheriff, who turns to watch us go.

~

Later we decided to go talk to this young woman, the second deputy's daughter I believe. As we walk up the street the marquee on the Highland Movie Theater reads in big bold letters: EMERGENCY TOWN HALL MEETING SUNDAY 8 PM BE SAFE OUT THERE. Below that a young woman is tacking up posters with Troy, the missing boy's face and the caption "Missing Troy Squire". The three of us approach.

"I'll bet you that's her." Dean says

"Well no shit sherlock, if course it's her." I joke, the boys turn towards me.

"Listen sweetheart you may be helping us, but that doesn't give you the right to curse."

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say shit, fuck, crap. Sorry!" I giggle, making Sam smirk. Dean ignores me and walks up to the young woman.

"You must be Amy." Dean points out.

"Yeah." She says as she looks towards us. "Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy and that's-" Dean was saying, trying to think on what I should be. "-my girlfriend Y/n." I give him a weird look and so does Sam, girlfriend? I thought. He couldn't have gone with sister or something?

"He never mentioned you to me." Amy walks away as the three of us tag along.

"Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto."

"We never really talk to Troy much, teenager's these days. Never wanna hang out with the adults." I chimes in as another young woman, comes up to Amy and puts a hand on her arm.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asks, while eyeing the three of us.

"Yeah." Amy replies.

"Do you mind if we ask you a couple questions?" I asked. "You probably know my nephew to be better then I do."

"Woah trying to get married already babe" Dean jokes as he puts an arm around my shoulder. "I thought the man asks the woman?"

"Well, 'darling' technically I am the one who is the man in this relationship." Sam and the two girls try not to giggle.

~

The five of us are sitting in a booth, Dean and Sam opposite Amy and Rachel while I'm sitting at the end of the table with a normal chair. The chair was turned away from the table as I was facing the four if them.

"So...Amy." I start. "What happened the night Troy disappeared?"

"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did."

"He didn't say anything strange?" Sam asks, Amy shakes her head.

"No. Nothing I can remember."

"I like your necklace." I state, Amy holds the pendant she's wearing, a pentagram in a circle, and looks down at it.

"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents-" Amy laughs. "-with all that devil stuff.

"Do you know where he got it?"

"Um...no actually."

Sam laughs a little and looks down, then up.

"Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." Sam says.

"Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries."

Dean jokes, takes his arm off the back of Sam's seat and leans forward. "Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything..." Amy and Rachel look at each other. "What is it?"

"Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk." Rachel, the other girl says. Dean and Sam speak in chorus. "What do they talk about?"

"It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Dean looks at Sam, who watches Rachel attentively, nodding. "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

"So let me guess you believe in this so called legend?" I ask.

"It's a possibility, you never know." Sam and Dean look at each other.

Considering that Rachel mentioned this legend, we made a trip to the library. Dean was in the computer with a web browser open to the archive search page for the Jericho Herald. The words "Female Murder Hitchhiking" are typed into the search box. Dean clicks go; the screen tells him there are "(0) Result". Dean replaces "Hitchhiking" with "Centennial Highway" with the same response.

"Your not gonna find anything in the internet. You gotta go old school." I point out.

Sam sighs, who is sitting next to him, watching.

"Let me try." He offered, Dean smacks Sam's hand.

"I got it." Sam shoves Dean's chair out of the way and takes over. "Dude!" Dean hits Sam in the shoulder. "You're such a control freak."

"You two are definitely brothers." I giggle, the boys just shake there heads. I push both of them out of the way "If you want to find a spirit, you gotta go dark. Angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?"

"Yeah." Dean agrees.

"Well, it's not murder." I replace "Murder" with "Suicide" and find an article entitled "Suicide on Centennial". Both if the boys seemed surprised. I open the article, dated April 25, 1981, I read what the article had to say. "A local woman's drowning death was ruled a suicide, the county Sheriff's Department said earlier today. Constance Welch, 24, of 4636 Breckenridge Road, leapt off Sylvania Bridge, at mile 33 of Centennial Highway, and subsequently drowned last night. Deputy J. Pierce told reporters that, hours before her death, Ms. Welch logged a call with 911 emergency services. In a panicked tone, Ms. Welch described how she found her two young children, 5 and 6, in the bathtub, after leaving them alone for several minutes. I continued to skim the article. " Here this is what the husband said, What happened to my children was a terrible accident. And it must have been too much for my wife. Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it. Now I ask that you all please respect my privacy during this trying time."

"So she committed suicide." Sam says. "Good job Y/n."

"Quiet there's more. At the time of the children's death and Ms. Welch's subsequent suicide, Mr. Welch was at the Frontier auto salvage yard, where he works the graveyard shift as associate manager. Connie might have been quiet, but she was the sweetest, most caring girl I ever knew, said Deanna Kripke, a neighbor. She just doted on those children."

Dean raises his eyebrows.

"Hm. The bridge look familiar to you?" Dean asks.

~

The three of us walk along the bridge, then stop to lean on the railing and look down at the river.

"So this is where Constance took the swan dive." Dean states.

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks.

"If your dad was here then he would've stopped the spirit right?" I wondered.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him."

"Okay, so now what?"

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while." Sam stops and looks at Dean.

"Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday-" Dean turns around.

"Monday. Right. The interview."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some Lawyer? Marry your girl?"

"Maybe. Why not?"

"Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?" Sam steps closer, I could tell a fight was about to break out.

"No, and she's not ever going to know."

"Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are."

Dean turns around and keeps walking, Sam follows.

"Guys c'mon we got more important things to do." I state.

"Stay out of this Y/n!" Both of them say at the same time.

"Who am I really Dean?" Sam says.

"You're one of us." Sam hurries to get in front of Dean.

"No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life."

"You have a responsibility to-"

"To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back." Dean grabs Sam by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge. Instantly I push Dean back, he begins to protest.

"Y/n-"

"No enough out of both of you. Focus, look if San wants out if this life then so be it. You can't change that, I may not know much about what you guys do for a living but I know damn well I wouldn't want to be hunting monsters all the time."

"What do you mean don't know much about what we do?" Sam questioned, clearly aggravated. "You brought her into this!"

"She decided this not me! I gave her the offer to walk away!"

"That wasn't her decision to make! If Y/D/N kept her out if this then you shouldn't have brought her with you!"

"She's eighteen! She can do whatever the hell she wants!"

"No Dean she's not eighteen! She's seventeen! She doesn't turn eighteen till (your birthday)." Dean looks at me, clearly surprised that I lied. However I wasn't paying attention, the spirit of Constance was standing at the edge of the bridge.

"Uh guys." The boys forget there argument and stand infront of me, like I'm something to be protected. Consance looks over at them, then steps forward off the edge. We run to the railing and look over.

"Where'd she go?" I asked.

"I don't know." Sam said, then behind us, the Impala's engine starts and its headlights come on, catching our attention.

"What the-who the fuck is driving your car!?" Dean pulls the keys out of his pocket and jingles them. The car jerks into motion, heading straight for them.

"Run!" I yell. The car is moving faster than we are, when it gets too close, the boys dive over the railing but it was to late for me.

The New Hunter Masterlist

[thoughts-n-paper]

As Lamia opened her eyes, she could feel her back pressing against the hard mattress, she had a drip attached to her left hand and her head was hurting as if she had banged it against some metal plate. She blinked multiple times till the room came in focus. It looked like a warehouse, with shelves of boxes on one side and a medical bed on the other, she was placed in a small corner, beside the hard bed was a table, over it was placed a battery-powered torch and a red notebook with a pen tied to it. She moved ahead to pick it up but suddenly felt her whole energy leaving her body as she exhaled, she instead decided to drag herself to the bathroom which was separated by a metal sheet made to act as a wall and get herself a glass of water. But the pipe attached to her did not let her go far. She followed it to the source which was a big bottle placed on a movable stand. Attached to the stand was a note, "Do not detach."

She stared at the needle placed in her skin, forming a thin slight bump on the back of her palm. She thought of removing it, even tried to move it by a fraction of a millimetre, but the pain needed too much effort to bear. She held the stand and moved it along her towards the bathroom. It was a standard bathroom found in any convenience store. Only, this was a little bigger, just enough to put a shower and a slab where a towel was placed. She made her way to the sink, which was two steps away, and opened the tap.

That's when she looked up in the mirror and was left even more baffled. She did not have hair on her head, the last time she remembered, she certainly had hair. She rushed back to the yellow stained cot, but there were no strands of hair present. She rushed back to the mirror and ran her hand hovering over her head. She looked around the bathroom, there was a small pot with stacks of toilet paper by its side. She opened the medicine cabinet and it was empty except for a toothbrush, toothpaste and a couple of bottles of moisturizers, there was a bar of soap by the sink and that was all. She stepped out and out of the corner of her eye, she could see a closet and decided to inspect that first. She opened it and found identical sets of clothes, similar to what she was currently wearing, a pile of identical undergarments and boxes of tampons on the upper shelf. She closed the closet doors and turned around, and took a deep breath. She stood there for some time, trapped in a spot, she could move in any direction but she did not know where. This was a new place and she still hadn't learned to make her way around the bed yet.

In her eye line, she could spot a board on the opposite wall. It seemed to be filled with slips of paper and some photographs. On the right was a steel operating bed with a set of stirrups attached to it, and on her left was a shelf with cardboard boxes stacked on it. There was no door in sight, just a few small windows near the ceiling. Lamia could catch a glimpse of the sky in them, she felt a sting like it was after a long time that she was seeing natural light. She went back to the bed, picked up the notebook and flipped through it. It was empty. The torchlight was just that, a torchlight. She was confused, why is she here, why is all this stuff here and how is she supposed to get out?

She walked up to the board on the other side of the room. At first, it all looked too cluttered for her to decode. It was all post-it notes and diary pages. She picked up one post-it at random and it said: "Name: Louisa, 22" She looked at the photograph, it was a young blond girl with blue eyes and a wide radiant smile.

"Louisa," she thought to herself. That named was a stranger to her, just like she was. She placed the post-it back and ran back to the bed. She picked up the notebook and pen and started writing everything she knew.

Her name, Lamia.

Occupation, OB/GYN.

Husband, Eric.

Parents, Dead.

Children, none. She paused. It was like her brain checked out for a millisecond to bring back a memory, but returned empty-handed. She continued.

The last thing, it was dinner in a restaurant, a Chinese restaurant, Eric's favourite. They were having wine, no he was having wine, she was drinking water. They were celebrating.

She paused again. Yes, children, none.

She ran her hand on the synthetic material draped on her body to check for pockets, there were none. She decided to take a lap around the room, past the stained bathroom and the metal bed with some medical equipment scattered on it towards the board. Just as she was about to cross the board, she noticed her photograph on it, beside it was a post-it note which said: "Name: Lamia, 39."

Lamia took the photograph off the board and took a closer look. It certainly was her, she had her long black hair, her cheeks had the natural blush in them and her eyes had very slight noticeable dark circles. She suddenly got the flash of earlier when she looked at her face in the mirror, bald, zero muscles sticking to the bone and every vein visible under her skin.

She placed the photograph back and moved on to another section of the board. There were several photographs of other women, with their name and age attached to them. Mostly ranging from late teens to mid-twenties. Some of them had newspaper clippings attached to them, almost all of them mentioning that they are currently under arrest for violating the Right to Live Act.

Lamia remembered when the Act was passed, she lost half of her clientele, even before the Act was official, she was one of the few who carried out procedural termination of the fetus. There was one clipping that had the word murder mentioned in the headlines, a photograph of a sweet little girl in ponytails was beside it, "Name: Hailey, 15". Lamia flinched. It said her body was found in an alley, cause of death was blood loss. She had recently given birth, but no signs of a child were found near the body. The police suspected that the murder took place somewhere else and the corpse was dropped to the spot. The cops refused to give any statement or even confirm whether it was a murder or not.

It did not make sense to her, it was all too confusing and Lamia was a little too tired to make sense out of non-sense. She moved to the operating bed. The cold touch of the metal against her fingers was the only familiar thing till now. She had loved being a doctor, the thrill of bringing a new life in the world, the rush of blood towards her palm as she went in to pull out a baby. There was a mobile rack by the bed, in it every piece of equipment she would need to perform her surgery of choice. She picked up the scalpel and ran her fingers against the sharp edge. It still had a scent of disinfectants on it, her favourite smell. Every patient she remembers always hated that smell, the distinct hospital smell, but this was what made her love the hospitals even more.

She collected herself and moved her attention towards the shelf, it seemed like the only logical location to look for explanations. But she didn't know where to start, there were about twenty boxes placed and the numbers marked on them but not in sequence. She decided to open the box marked with number 1.

At the top of the pile inside was a small photo album. She opened it and found family pictures of a little girl with her parents and grandparents and then friends, she kept flipping till she came to her teen years where Lamia recognized her as the murdered 15-year-old. She dug inside and found a file containing all the newspaper clippings with her parents' interviews along with the manuscripts of all the video and radio interviews they did. She could only go through half of it as it became unbearable to read the plea of these parents for their daughter to return to them. Next was her journal, Lamia opened the first page and as she traced her fingers through the name Hailey written in pink, with hearts over the 'i', she closed the journal and dumped it back in the box.

This was sick and demented. Going through her belongings was enough to turn her stomach, she was dreading to meet the person who collected all this.

Lamia moved to the next one, she opened it and again the first thing she found was an album. This time it was a slightly older girl in them. She must be at least 19, so Lamia went to the board and started comparing every photograph to the girl in the album. "Name: Angela, 22", the article attached to her picture said that she moved to a foreign country and hence was untraceable by the authorities. It was believed that the alleged abortion incident led her to escape the country. There were no interviews in her box, just screenshots of her phone, to her boyfriend who kept messaging her but she never replied, to some of her friends she said that she was in Paris living with a cousin and to her parents, she said she was in Italy on an exchange program. This only increased her confusion. There was something off about this one but it wasn't as easy to pin as the earlier one.

One by one Lamia kept going through the boxes and assigning them names from the board. With each album she picked up, she dreaded it being hers. She did not want to know what was in her box.

"Name: Rory, 27", Lamia matched the face to the board, but as she flipped through she noticed that she had turned from a curvy girl to a stick figure. In retrospect, she could remember all of them looking a lot thinner in later photographs. Rory was arrested shortly after the last photograph, so in her box were her interviews. Lamia opened the first page of her file, the heading read "I was left with no choice". The article began by saying how this innocent girl was responsible for murdering a life and the price for it was short term amnesia. It said that once Rory got pregnant and she did not want to keep it, she approached a doctor whose name will not be disclosed yet. The doctor told her that the situation will be dealt with and the next thing Rory remembers is not being pregnant anymore but she had also lost 7 months of her life. A small price to pay according to her.

It was like with each piece in place the rest of the pieces kept getting smaller, making it impossible to assemble. It seemed logical to expect her box somewhere in there. She let go of her project to identify each box and rushed through them till she found her family album. She finally came upon it, it was the last one.

She skipped through the pictures of her childhood and opened the last few pages which contained her baby shower photographs. She did not remember having a baby, she went in the box again and found a bunch of certificates, degrees she acquired over the years and a baby blanket. The memory was coming back to her in flashes, she was sitting by the window in the nursery. They had decided to put on a wallpaper resembling a garden, she remembers being happy as she looked around at the drawn on butterflies stuck to the walls and her knitting that blanket. Lamia snapped out, something bad happened, she remembered the feeling of despair, in the back of her mind she knew what but she chose not to go there. Until she picked up the next document in the box, a medical file and the first page was her discharge form. Miscarriage.

She felt dizzy, she went back to the bathroom and bent down to drink some water from the tap. After splashing her face with water several times, she went back to the shelf and sat down near the box, she took a deep breath, now that she was forced to confront her tragedy, she could move on and figure out why she is in this place and what is her connection to the other women. She picked up a book, "Ancient Fertility Rituals: Secrets from the age-old tribes still practised today", there were several pages bookmarked with post-it notes, lines highlighted and some even had handwritten notes stapled to it. She opened the one with the thickest set of papers attached to it.

It told about a nomadic tribe that would feed a stillborn baby and the placenta to an infertile mother to pass on the soul of the child so that it can heal itself in another womb and be born. Disgusted, she moved to read the notes.

"Trial 1: Failed. Trial 2: I am hopeful, the results should come in a month." "Trial 2: Failed. Trial3: It is becoming hard to track a stillborn, the ritual specifies consumption within 12 hours." "Trial 3: A woman came to me for an abortion, Eric has drafted a proposal."

Lamia shut the book closed and tossed it aside.

The next item was a newspaper, the headline "The evilest woman in the world" and below that was a photograph of her being taken from her home in handcuffs. She had to run to the bathroom again, this time to throw up. Only water came out but the dry gag was even worse.

She opened one of the boxes before her, the one which was arrested for abortion. It was the same story as the second girl, she went in for an abortion and suddenly 8 months of her life were gone. She went through her pictures and towards the end, she too had lost an enormous amount of weight, she looked like she had aged 30 years. In an interview where she described her health, she mentioned that she was now anaemic and had a severe vitamin D deficiency. Lamia opened another box and it was the same story, abortion, missing months and a drastic deterioration in health. This pattern followed till the first girl, the one who never returned.

She went back to her stack, there, placed on top, was a plastic bag filled with photographs. The room in them was quite similar to the one she was in, the bathroom was nearly identical with the bed near it and a stand by its side not much different than the one she was attached to. She picked up the newspaper again and the words seemed to start floating in front of her eyes.

Cannibalism.

Vile practice.

Child Sacrifice.

Murderer.

Devil.

She had to rush back to the bathroom to throw up again, this time no matter how much she rinsed, she could not wipe out the taste of blood in her mouth.

'The doctor confessed that her last patient, unfortunately, passed away during the birth and in a state of haste, she made the wrong decision to leave the body in an alleyway. The young girl had come to the doctor for treatment after finding herself pregnant at 15 years of age. The doctor justified her actions by stating that those children were doomed to die anyway, she only thought it justified to use their death to bring a child into the world that would be welcomed. Her spree of cannibalism went on for 7 years, tracing back to a year after her first miscarriage. She went on to bribe coroners to get access to infant corpses but once that seemed to be too complicated, she took matters into her hands and started luring naïve women in the guise of giving them an abortion.

Some of these women managed to escape the law by moving to different countries, but the department managed to arrest most of the women, and despite their own traumatic experiences, they are not exempted from serving time for going against the Right to Live Act. But what about the little girl who made one mistake and had to lose her life. Her parents still fight on to get the accused the death penalty.'

One of the magazines had managed to perfectly summarize her entire ordeal in a few words. Although, it felt like reading about some other version of herself. She remembered how much she had wanted to be a mother, the paranoia every time she saw a pregnant woman. It had started affecting her job. Her body was not healthy enough to create life and even though Eric was willing to adopt, she refused. She wanted to do this, she wanted to prove that her body was not hostile. But the desperation, the drive to kill, it was still a stranger to her. It was like a vivid bad dream she had a night, and in the morning she knew the things she did but they did not feel real enough to have happened to her.

Suddenly, there was a static noise in the room.

"Dr Walters, could you gather why you are here?"

Lamia wiped her tears and stood up. "Yes."

"Care to elaborate."

"I kidnapped women under the pretext of terminating their pregnancies, and" she gagged, "consumed the remains of their child."

Outside the room there was a commotion, Lamia could hear none of it.

A huge crowd was gathered holding posters with "Death to Murderer" and "Kill the child Killer" written on them.

A reporter stood in front of the camera, "This is the second trial of Dr Walters. Her memory of the incident was wiped 24 hours before the trial began. The last time, she did own up to the crimes but when asked what her punishment should be, she pleaded that her memories had been wiped and hence been changed by the experience. If she refuses the sentence again, she will be put on trial on the date decided by the judge. Earlier in the year, Mr Eric Walters, Dr Walters husband had been put in the penitentiary as per his demand, where he will spend the rest of his days. Let's see if like him, his wife has some humanity left in her yet.